‘Arghhh,’ groaned Amelie sending the call to answer phone. ‘I wish she would stop calling. She wants to know how the audition went.’
‘Amelie.’ Her father took a stern tone with her. ‘You need to speak with her. She’s worried about you.’
‘I’ll call her back, I promise.’
Amelie strode into the side entrance of the studio with her father and went straight into the control room. She took a seat at the back of the room on a long blue sofa, kicking her feet up and laying back to play with her phone. The studio was only two years old and although it was small, it was fitted out beautifully. Mike’s taste was clean and modern, with dark masculine blues and greys. Practically the opposite of her mother.
Maxx slipped in just after ten, and again Amelie expected the boy in the glossy press shots – but once again he looked like he could have been anyone; a boy at her school, almost. There wasn’t a boy at her school anywhere near that attractive, though. His hair, his shoulders thick under those rolled up T-shirt sleeves, and his deep green eyes.
Maxx hadn’t noticed she was there as he began chatting to her dad. He was confident and self-assured, though there was something about his face, the way he spoke, his accent, the way that the corners of his eyes moved when he smiled, that made him seem gentle.
‘So, damn it,’ he sighed. ‘I can’t get hold of Dee. I’m wondering if I should just go ahead and record the song this week, and lay down her vocals in the US as you suggested.’
‘It’s an okay idea, but let’s try to hold out hope. It will really sound a lot better if you both record here. Chemistry and all that.’
Amelie watched with fascination as Maxx waved away her father’s comment.
‘I can’t really do a duet without her.’
‘Do you think you’ll be able to get her to come?’ Mike asked. ‘We could put the word out for a UK artist? Confidentially of course … I could speak to some people at Universal?’
‘Let’s wait a bit more. I’ve left her a final final final message now, if we don’t hear back she’s either dead or REALLY doesn’t want to do it.’ Maxx half-heartedly laughed.
‘Oh, I forgot.’ Mike spun round in his chair. ‘Amelie is here.’
‘Hi. I’m sorry about yesterday. Bad Day!’ Amelie pulled herself up from the couch and held out her hand timidly, unable to meet Maxx’s gaze.
‘Looked like your guitar had a bad day too,’ Maxx joked, shaking her hand.
‘I’m just very punk rock,’ Amelie grumbled.
‘Well, I’m glad to have you around. Be great to have your input. What I heard the other week wasn’t half bad.’ When he spoke he seemed so adult. There was a polish and a confidence in his voice, with none of that flat, snarky undertone that most boys at her school had.
Unable to hold eye contact for more than a short moment, Amelie looked away, pulling her hand back and placing it quickly in her pocket.
‘Thanks,’ she said dryly. Suddenly worried she was coming across as rude again, she quickly added, ‘Thanks for letting me work for you.’
‘It’s cool. It’s gonna be fun.’ He smiled broadly. ‘Not that I know what the hell I’m doing.’
He was so different to the guy she had seen at the gig. He was relaxed for one, and there was a playfulness about him that she found natural and genuine. His accent was really something – it had a thick, warm southern twang to it, and though it was deep, it was soft.
‘Shall we get cracking?’ Mike was busying himself with preparing the mixing desk. ‘Amelie, come and sit here.’
He mouthed ‘thanks’ to Maxx with a thumbs up, as he made his way into the studio area.
Amelie sat forward, captivated by the effortlessness with which Maxx worked, the way his fingers moved across the strings on his guitar, and the way the sweat formed on his forehead as he played. She was fascinated by the difference between this guy and the one she’d seen on stage, sashaying five-astride in matching bright sequined suits just a few weeks back. It was extraordinary.
‘Mike, let’s put down a rough guide track, okay?’ Maxx looked up and caught Amelie’s eye, he threw her a smile.
‘Yep. Just pull that side mic about one inch closer to the guitar,’ her dad said.
So Maxx played his song, a pop song – much to Amelie’s disappointment – but her dad captured it in all its beautiful simplicity. It was kinda sweet, a song about love and loss of course, and Amelie found her mind wandering as she imagined being the subject of his obvious infatuation.
‘Everything is gone. And everything is forgotten. Just. Come. Back. To. Me,’ he sang, his strong voice cracking slightly at the end of each phrase. His voice was deeper and raspier than when he sang with The Keep, and his southern accent was gently present, giving it a new depth of personality. And believability.
She glanced over at the desk to look at the lyric sheet.
‘Can I?’ she whispered to her father, who tossed it back to her.
As she read the female part, she tried to imagine the harmony vocal entwining itself around the melody. She could visualise it. It was a good, solid piece of songwriting. But, it was lacking something, thought Amelie. Sweet, yes, but it was very simple. Like the first draft. The one you don’t show anyone. Even with Maxx’s incredible vocal it needed something more.
For the next two hours Maxx and Mike worked on the spine of the song – redoing the chorus, adding in a bridge, figuring the finish, until finally there was a framework with which to lay a drum track, which, to Amelie’s amazement, Maxx played himself.
‘Didn’t I tell you? He can play!’ her dad whispered while a very hot and sweaty Maxx wiped his brow with the bottom of his T-shirt. A very wide-eyed Amelie managed only to nod and cough in response.
Each time they stopped, Maxx would come back into the control room, put his feet up and listen back, while Julian scampered about with Amelie setting up for the next instrument.
‘We patch this through here,’ Julian would whisper, making sense of the myriad of cables and cords twisting across the floor and into the mixing desk.
Each decision, from the type of microphone, to the twist of the mic stand and the position of the musician, produced a different sound. Amelie had spent years learning about engineering – but working in a live session, recording someone other than herself in her bedroom, was something else altogether.
Before long Amelie was utterly engrossed.
Next they laid down a bass track, which once again Maxx played. It was fascinating to watch him work, and as he and her father bounced back and forth with each other, Amelie found herself starting to buzz with ideas for composition and arrangement. She felt too shy to voice them, but hoped she might be asked, or might grow confident enough to offer her thoughts over the week.
‘I’m just not sure if it’s too heavy-handed?’ Something was really bugging Maxx. He was shaking his head.
‘Sounds good with the guide track?’ her father offered.
Maxx shook his head. ‘I don’t know. It’s hard to know without the second part. I’m not digging it.’
‘Look, let’s push on,’ Mike insisted. ‘I think it’s worth getting the parts down, everything is individually tracked so we can tinker around as we like later. But it’s a different thing, of course, if you’re unsure of the composition?’
‘No. Let’s keep on as you say,’ Maxx said, his brow furrowed.
Amelie sat with her father, shadowing his every move, asking a hundred questions.
‘I’m proud of you, Amelie,’ her dad said between takes. ‘You are a natural engineer. I should have taken a bit more notice when you started stealing my old gear from storage. Oh, don’t look so shocked. Of course I knew.’
Amelie smiled, secretly bursting with pride and blushing wildly in front of Julian and Maxx.
By two p.m. everyone was ready for lunch.
‘A big fat greasy burger,’ Maxx insisted. ‘I don’t demand much but that was a busy session and I’m starving. My arms hurt. My fingers
ache.’ He laughed.
‘Amelie?’
‘I’m up for that.’
‘Great, I’ll send Julian out. Give me a sec.’
Her dad popped out, leaving Maxx and Amelie alone. Amelie kept herself busy by winding up cables and clearing away the mess her dad had left around the mixing desk.
‘So, what do you play then? Just guitar? Or are you multitalented like your old man?’ Maxx asked, filling the silence.
‘Some piano and a bit of saxophone, though I don’t do that so much any more. I discovered guitar and the sax suddenly seemed totally uncool.’ Amelie sighed. She had this horrible feeling that she would never be a proper musician. If she still couldn’t play a chord in a room full of people after all this time, maybe it was never going to happen for her. Not like Maxx, or Dee or even bloody Tara. She caught his reflection in the glass as he changed out of his T-shirt into a fresh sweatshirt and plonked down on the sofa. He was fit. Not Instagram-my-abs-fit, softer than that.
‘Can you sing?’ Maxx asked. ‘I mean, can you harmonise?’
‘Debatable.’ Amelie brushed the question off.
‘Why don’t you lay down the female vocal for me?’ he said nonchalantly.
For a moment Amelie thought she had misheard. She looked at Maxx, who had thrown the question out so casually she didn’t know how to respond. Did he realise what she’d just been through? Was this some misguided attempt to somehow help her? Had her dad put him up to it? He looked sincere, but she was completely unnerved by the question.
‘Well I need the vocal track, and since Dee’s not here yet you could really help me out if you would. I need to hear it properly with the female voice.’
He was looking at her now, searching her face for some kind of response, but she did not want to open up this door. ‘Um … I don’t know, I don’t think so … thanks, though.’
In fact, Amelie was terrified of doing it. She wished her dad would come back to interrupt the conversation, which was now making her extremely uncomfortable.
‘Oh, go on! Don’t thank me, you would be really helping.’
‘I’ll have think about it.’ Amelie tried to put him off.
‘Come on! Why don’t we try? I mean, I don’t have to be here if you’re uncomfortable?’ Maxx offered, undeterred.
‘Um, I guess I could. Please can I think about it?’ Amelie finally looked him square in the eye and confessed. ‘Honestly, after yesterday, I don’t know if my nerves can take it.’
Maxx’s face softened, and it was clear her dad had filled him in on the audition.
‘Okay, well, you gotta get back on the horse and all that.’
‘I know. I just … You have to put everything out there to do it. I don’t have much left in the tank.’ Amelie’s voice wavered.
‘It’s just acting, you know. You just have to pretend. You don’t have to give your soul away, every time. But I’ll leave it with you to decide,’ he said gently.
Although he didn’t push it, Amelie could tell he was used to getting what he wanted and this conversation was surely not over until it went his way. She had to admit the idea was extremely enticing, but she just felt way too uncomfortable with it.
She could find nothing else to clean or tidy, so she sat back in her father’s chair thinking of a way to change the subject.
‘How long are you here for? In London, I mean,’ she asked.
‘I’ll leave at the end of this week, after we finish recording the track. Shame it can’t be longer really, but I need to spend some time with my folks before they forget who I am.’
‘All week for just this one simple track?’ she said, before adding quickly, ‘I mean, it’s pretty straightforward.’
‘Well, four tracks. I want to do an EP if I can manage it.’ He sighed, shaking his head. ‘So, what do you do around here in the East End? Are you, you know, sneaking into gigs and stuff yet?’
‘Ha!’ Amelie laughed. ‘Starting to.’
They were interrupted by the vibration of Maxx’s phone, which he hurriedly picked up, almost dropping it in the rush to catch the call.
‘Hang on a sec,’ he said to Amelie. ‘Dee. DEE, is that you?’
Amelie discreetly picked up a music mixing magazine that was sitting on her father’s desk and pretended to be absorbed in an article.
‘Yeah, I can hear you. I’m in the studio now – I’ve been trying to call you. What have you been doing?’
Amelie could hear the tenderness in his voice, but it was mixed with an unmistakable air of exasperation.
‘Oh really? You can? That’s great news. Well, Friday would work. It’s the last day though so you won’t be able to help with the production or the writing, which is a shame …
‘Yep, I’m glad you can come at all, we can work with that. I guess, it’s just not going to be really your song. More of a guest vocal? Does that matter to you? Shall I send you the rough track? … Okay, great. See you Friday!’
He hung up and breathed a big sigh of relief, shaking his head.
‘Well, thank god for that!’ he said. ‘She’s been driving me crazy! Impossible to pin down, that girl.’
‘What’s happening?’
‘She’s coming. But not until Friday. So she says anyway.’ Maxx nodded, looking relieved but uncertain. ‘But at least she’s coming. I’m DEFINITELY going to need you to lay down a rough track now,’ he said, grinning.
He looked across at Amelie. ‘So then, Amelie Ayres. What can I do to convince you? Money? Foot massage? New guitar? You do really need a new guitar by the way.’
Amelie finally laughed. ‘I said I’d think about it. Sheesh! You’re so bloody pushy!’
At that moment Julian and Mike bowled in, their arms laden with burgers, cokes, fries and a huge tiramisu picked up from the Italian deli across the street for their dessert. Amelie could feel herself starting to relax and feel at home at the studio, and her dad looked like he’d relaxed about her being there. Julian perched down next to her and threaded his arm through hers and was pressing her for all sorts of information on her night at The Keep gig.
‘And so you had a great time then, despite the incident,’ he whispered jokingly.
Amelie rolled her eyes. ‘Sorry to say it, but Charlie is a bit of a nob.’
‘But the most handsome dick in the line-up,’ Julian giggled. ‘PRESENT COMPANY EXCLUDED!’ he nodded to Maxx.
‘Huh? What are you talking about?’ Maxx piped up, looking confused as Amelie elbowed Julian in the ribs.
‘Well, yes, anyway, apart from the incident, it was really great fun, the whole night,’ Amelie continued. ‘I actually really enjoyed myself.’ She glanced at Maxx awkwardly, who was now listening in.
‘But isn’t she just divine!?’ Julian cooed to Maxx cuddling Amelie in closer.
‘She’s pretty cool.’ Maxx smiled at Amelie, who was unprepared for the charge of electricity his look sent through her.
‘Oh hey, so what was your favourite city? Who are the best fans?’ Julian asked.
‘Oh, well I liked Madrid. That was cool. And Vienna – Vienna is amazing.’
‘Oh I really want to go to Vienna. Great outdoor classical music concerts. Looks super magical,’ Amelie said enthusiastically.
‘Vienna has incredible cake too,’ Maxx said earnestly. ‘And coffee.’
‘And Prague is really beautiful, isn’t it?’ Amelie piped in. ‘Oh, didn’t your stage collapse there or something?’
‘Yeah. Yeah it did. We were lucky it happened in rehearsals. But how did you …’ He stopped suddenly, and a look of curiosity, then an awkward silence. ‘Oh. Yeah.’
He quickly turned to her dad. ‘We ought to think about getting back to it?’
Amelie and Julian cleared away the food as she watched Maxx walk back into the studio. He was this hugely famous superstar, a god to thirteen-year-old girls everywhere, who was in literally the WORST band she’d ever heard of, and yet she had to admit, he was a nice guy. And fit. Quite fit.
By the time things began to wind up, the place looked and felt well-worn. There were sweet wrappers everywhere, empty cans, and half a hamburger on the table. In the studio itself there were several guitars out, upturned drums, amps stacked upon amps, the grand piano was uncovered, used and then discarded, and paper with Maxx’s scribbled notes lay strewn all across the floor.
They had worked and worked the song so much, but still Maxx and her father were unhappy. And the female vocal track, which Maxx had sung to help with the composition, sounded too old fashioned on top of a pretty lacklustre guitar/bass/drums combination.
Amelie knew what it was. It lacked soul.
‘It’s early days,’ Mike had reminded Maxx on more than one occasion.
‘Well, I really don’t understand why it’s not working. A guy singing a love song to himself – it’s genius,’ he’d joked.
Although it was only the second full day in the studio, they really needed to be further along since they had another three songs to lay down to make that debut EP that Maxx was hoping for.
After nine hours straight of recording, it was hot in there, and Maxx had worked hard. He came out smelly and sweaty and desperately needing a shower, and a cold drink. ‘God, why do I feel so frustrated!’ he winced, sniffing his armpits. ‘And how do I smell this bad?’
‘Well, we’re all just warming up,’ Mike said, tossing him a hand towel.
‘All right, Mike.’ Maxx coughed, his voice sounding a little hoarse. ‘I think it’s time to call it a day.’
‘You got it, mate!’ Mike switched off the desk and stretched, spinning in his chair. ‘Well, Amelie, what did you think?’
‘It was amazing. Just amazing. I learned so much.’
‘Well, I’m glad you liked it, Amelie, but I’m just not happy with it,’ said Maxx, stretching. ‘I feel like I need another whole day on it.’
‘We’ve got to move on,’ Mike said gently. ‘We’ve only got the week. But, I know.’ Mike looked at the computer screen and made a few last adjustments. ‘I know what you mean. There’s something missing for sure.’
‘No heart. No soul.’ Maxx sighed.
Mike turned, and Amelie recognised the solemn fatherly expression. ‘I can help with engineering, with the sound, even the composition – but, the soul of the track, that’s for you to find, Maxx.’
This Beats Perfect Page 12